


Glass Houses

by Clea Strange (agentj)



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8749600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentj/pseuds/Clea%20Strange
Summary: Rebuilding the sanctum is much harder without an infinity stone. But it provides valuable lessons Stephen must learn if he will take on the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme.





	

The first spells Stephen conquered as the master and protector of the New York Sanctum Sanctorum was glass. To be sure he truly mastered it, Wong made him in charge of every shard throughout the building. Stephen learned how to rebuild it, reconstitute it, and enchant it - all without the sorcerer’s infinity stone. Which really sucked, because reversing time to put back all those broken panes of glass would have just been so much easier.

But, said Wong, a sorcerer learning how to respect glass was much like a cook learning how to respect a grain of rice. His people had elaborate rituals of growing, cultivating and even preparing rice. All cooks start by learning how to choose a proper rice, how to pick through the grains and wash them. Only after years of mastering these simple steps would the cook be allowed to go to the next phase and actually take part in learning how to cook the rice.

“I’m sure Agamotto’s Eye could speed that up a little,” Stephen joked. Alas, his stoic companion elected not to crack a smile at his continued attempts in levity. Surely if the man found something jovial in the fact that the warnings regarding rituals come at the end, Wong could find at least _one_ of Stephen’s pathetic attempts at humor amusing? Then again, perhaps Wong’s somber attitude was all for show. It just wouldn’t do for one’s teacher to be all buddy-buddy to his pupil. And Stephen admitted that it _did_ make him try harder.

What would really piss Stephen off though was, after rebuilding a glass case and reinforcing it with an enchantment, Wong would casually stroll by and, with a flick of his wrist, cast a spell that shattered it again. “Not strong enough, Strange,” Wong would say, his head buried in some newly-acquired book from one of the esoteric booksellers among the backstreets of the city. It was almost enough for Stephen to sick the Cloak of Levitation on the mystic master.

But all in all, Stephen _was_ glad he’d been given such menial tasks. It reminded him of his residency at New York Hospital. Although the other residents had learned humility through repetition of grueling hours and lowly work, Stephen - as always - had found a way to shortcut it, be admired for his brilliance, and come out as the golden med student by which all others could be measured.

But not here. Wong had no time for Stephen’s ass-hattery. Technically Wong, along with Master Hamir, were probably the most senior officers within the Kamar-Taj now that Mordo and the Ancient One were gone. Because of that, they were in charge of coordinating the more practical tasks of the mystical order - at least until such time as a new Sorcerer Supreme could be elected.

A task for which Stephen knew full well he was being groomed. Naturally, as Kamar-Taj’s most talented student - as well as the most junior - Strange had landed himself in the exact same situation as he had as a medical student. His arrogance and headstrong determination had carried him to top marks in nearly everything he did.

But this time it was different. For the first time, Stephen didn’t know if he _wanted_ to be Sorcerer Supreme. Sure, the title sounded cool. He got a heroic cape - nix that - _cloak_ , awesome powers, and near-omnipotent knowledge of how the whole goddamn fucking creation worked.

Oh, but what price glory?

There was no glory, actually, Stephen admitted. It wasn’t like he could show up at the hottest New York nightclubs or trendiest restaurants, be recognized as the crème de la crème of Hogwarts Wizarding School, and be treated like an international celebrity. No more could he walk into an operating theater, sweep the stage and dazzle the onlookers with nothing more than his title.

_Doctor_.

He was so proud of calling himself that, even now. It was the last shred of vanity he had left, and he clung to it like drowning man thrown from the Titanic. MD, Ph. D., S.O.B., all those alphabetical soups belonged to him. What would be one more title to throw onto the pile?

_The mantle of duty and responsibility_ , the still small voice inside Stephen insisted. And he knew it was right.

Standing back, Stephen felt a sense of pride and accomplishment in his work. All the cases were back together as one. He smiled, pleased at himself.

Wong walked by, tutting. A flick of a finger, and they were down again. “Not good enough, Strange,” he proclaimed.

Stephen rankled after his Asian companion. How _dare_ he! He worked hard at rebuilding those cases! _Again_! Stephen sighed, concentrating on his breathing, centering himself. It would not do to get angry. This was a blow to his ego, not to his abilities. He knew how to build these cases back up. What he really needed to learn was how to not let his ego and pride take the better of him.

And all at once, it made perfect sense. Of course Wong would destroy his work over and over. It was all to get him to see this - everything is impermanent. Humans can rebuild, reconstruct, reconstitute everything around them, but in the end, time and tide - and some malicious entities - would only tear it back down again.

There was no place for pride in this kind of work. And there would be no place for ego and pride in taking the mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme, either. It _would_ be hard and thankless work. There would be no accolades, no applause, no one to grandstand to - and he could very well have to face ghouls and goblins who endlessly tear down the protections he would so carefully have to build over and over again.

_When_ he took up its office.

Concentrating, Stephen lifted his hands and incanted the spell that pulled the glass back up into their frames, melded everything together and then for extra measure, an additional intonation to reinforce the structures from simple shatter spells.

Wong returned in due course.

“No, no, no no no!” Protectively, Stephen stood in front of the cases, his arms flung wide as if his body could shield them from Wong’s spells. Well, it would have looked more impressive if he were wearing the cloak, at any rate.

Squinting at his pupil, Wong flicked a hand, and--

\--The glass stood.

Wong nodded. “Very good, Stephen. You’re learning.”

_Thank the gods_ , Stephen inwardly praised, lowering his arms. Maybe he would earn his way up now. Maybe like…glowing urns or enchanted doorways.

“Next - windows.”

Stephen looked incredulously at his task-master.

Sternly, he retorted. “I don’t _do_ windows!”

Oh, _now_ Wong laughed.


End file.
